A Very Twisted Rithmere Games
by Crystal Silvera
Summary: The quest for Deltora failed and the Belt's power is broken. The Shadow Lord, triumphing once again, stumbles across Panem. There, it's just before the 49th Hunger Games, and the Gamemakers decide it's time for a little twist . . . SYOT, both Deltorans and Panemians! FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!
1. The Games

_**Full summary:**_

_The Belt of Deltora has been destroyed and its gems scattered again, its power useless. The quest for Deltora failed at the last, crucial moment in Del—before Lief was revealed as heir. Although everyone in Deltora knows now, because the Shadow Lord has other things in store for him.  
_

_Controlling Deltora utterly, the Shadow Lord sends his warships to seek more peoples and lands to conquer. One fleet stumbles across Panem—and becomes the first in a series of events that leads to the ultimate Hunger Games . . .  
_

_In Deltora, the Shadow Lord selects fourteen tributes of his own—a girl and a boy between the ages of twelve and eighteen from each gem tribe. Although, in the tribe of the Topaz—the Del tribe—two have already been chosen: Lief and Jasmine. _

_And this time, the monsters against them are of their own kind._

_Is it even possible to outsmart both_ _the Gamemakers _and_ the Shadow Lord? _

_For if there is not, then there ends the line of heirs to Deltora's throne and the claimer of the Belt's ancient power. If dies the heir, then die the ancient and _only _defense of the land of Deltora. . . ._

_The forty-ninth Hunger Games—thirty-eight tributes, of Deltorans and Panemians alike. _

* * *

**~Chapter One: The Games~**

* * *

**_Deltora_**

POV, the Shadow Lord

There is no hope left—not anymore.

Silently, with the dull despair of a people without anything left to hold on to, Deltorans from all around the land make their way to Del.

_Del._ Through the ages of Deltora's history, it has always stood for something. The capital and trading city of Deltora, where the royal family used to live in the golden palace. It was, once, a place of celebration, joy, and hope. Where Adin the blacksmith and first king had first dreamed of and forged the mythical Belt of Deltora.

But Del is also the place where the Belt and its magic had been torn and scattered once already by the patient, complex plans of the Shadow Lord.

And now, it is about to be broken again—and by the very same being.

The Shadow Lord watches from his perch in the sky, surveying with slitted red eyes in his dark, cloaked human form. The square slowly fills with Deltorans—a square not unlike where the Place of Punishment once stood. Except this time, it is full to the brim of Deltorans and Shadow Lord servants alike.

Grey Guards ring the square, their slings loaded once again with deadly blisters—with a new source of poison besides that of Gellick. Shadow monsters stand by them, casting longing glares at the Deltorans that they see as nothing but clever, entertaining prey. The seven Ak-Baba swoop and flap in the sky, howling and screeching their master's triumph.

The Shadow Lord half smiles to himself.

_They were foolish to think they would defeat me . . . and now, I will show them exactly what utter control I have. And I will take away what they had relied on in the past—even though they had failed them.  
_

"And what exactly do you plan on doing, _Shadow Lord_?" hisses a spiteful voice behind him. _That upstart again._

The Shadow Lord almost laughs. Almost.

"If there is one thing you should have learned by now, _wild girl_, you should know that I am exceedingly patient and that I can wait till time's end for my plans to work."

He hears the girl growl, but even a dimwit like her knows that the Shadow Lord is always, _always_ protected by a thick layer of ancient magic. Something nearly as ancient as the Belt itself.

The Shadow Lord turns and sweeps his view over the mass of Deltorans. _At last . . . _Eagerness wells up within him. Eagerness at the destruction that is to come. He raises his hands, and all noise falls silent. The Shadow servants look up at their master expectantly, sharing the same eagerness.

"People of Deltora! My people!"

_"None of them are your 'people,' Shadow Lord!"_

That girl's voice again. But the Shadow Lord ignores her and continues—this is too great to be stopped by any means.

"Today we have gathered here to witness a certain . . . breaking." A smile creeps across the Shadow Lord's dark features. "A breaking of the power you have relied on for centuries, something that will prevent _any_ of you attempting such evils again.

"But this time, I have something else planned for my—pleasure. And to assure that something like the foolish quest will never happen again—for if they had failed, as they have done, the land would be mine. And even if they had succeeded, why, the land would _still_ be mine. I am never without plans, Deltorans, and I am willing to wait for eternities."

Stony silence.

"Let me proceed to the matter at hand: While roaming the seas, my ships came across a country, a country whose people call it Panem. There, they have a certain—_way_—of controlling their subjects."

The malicious glint in the Shadow Lord's eye makes all the Deltorans assembled go stiff with dread.

And also where the wild girl decides to step in.

"None of us care, Shadow Lord!" she shouts furiously, her voice echoing across the empty square. "If you think this will sink us in despair, think again! In fact, killing one of my companions has done nothing—nothing but make me hungry for vengeance!"

The Shadow Lord laughs this time. It was too hilarious and coincidental to not do so. "Oh, but Jasmine, what fateful words you have chosen! I thank you—this will make continuing much easier."

As Jasmine fumes silently, the boy standing beside her—heir to the throne of Deltora—rushes to comfort her, muttering in a low voice. The Shadow Lord ignores them and turns back to the rest of the Deltorans.

"You see, my people, in Panem they have a certain annual occurrence called the _Hunger_ Games. In these Games, they send twenty-four of their children between ages of twelve through eighteen to the Capitol—which, really, is their own Del, but more . . . sophisticated. Eventually, these twenty-four tributes will be placed in an outdoor wilderness arena to . . . _fight to the death._"

This time, the silence of the Deltorans is of fear and panic.

The Shadow Lord's smile spreads even further. "Oh, yes! The very best thing, however, that I absolutely _love_ about these Hunger Games, is the fact that the winner survives, granted riches and fame, and the losers _die_. Killed by their own brethren or the very arena!" He turns to Jasmine and Lief, who meet his bloodred gaze defiantly but hopelessly.

Below in the square, the Deltorans are silent. Mass death is not a new concept, having gone through things like the Shadow Arena and the wars with the Shadow monsters, but this kind of killing is a horror all its own.

"I have worked an agreement with these Panemians. They, after selecting their twenty-four tributes, will send them to Deltora for a short tour of the land. And then I myself will choose—at random!—two tributes from each gem tribe." The Shadow Lord's eyes glitter with malice, still trained on the two. "Two from each gem tribe, to remind you how Adin's cursed little dream Belt failed you all."

He pauses, studying Lief and Jasmine.

"Oh, but those of the Topaz tribe need not worry! For I already have my tributes for _that_ tribe selected already." The Shadow Lord smiles widely again as the faces of the two, realizing their fate, slowly darken with fear and dread.

"Lief and Jasmine of Del!"

The Ak-Baba explode with their weird, howling cries, and quickly the Deltorans start a forced, ragged cheer—Grey Guards unleash blisters and Shadow monsters on those who do not.

The Shadow Lord knows this is a most wonderful plan, doubtlessly more promising than the smaller, simpler ones he made in attempts to destroy the three in search of the gems of the Belt. He smiles.

_This time, there are—will be—thirty-six others seeking them out, doing everything to their power to make sure they die._

_And that is only if one of them did not turn their back and choose survival over loyalty._

_. . . This is a plan that _will_ work._

The Shadow Lord raises a hand and the mass gathered below him quiets.

"However, before we continue . . ." He turns to Lief. "Your sword, _royal heir_."

Both Lief and Jasmine stare back, uncomprehending. Then, after a tense pause: "No."

The Shadow Lord's red eyes flare in fury and annoyance._ "Your sword!"_

"Why?" retorts Jasmine, moving forward.

"Oh, no _reason_ . . . that _you_ need to know."

With that said, the Shadow Lord summons the sword himself. The steel soars out in a shining arc, flashing for a moment despite the dull red light. The Shadow Lord's hand shoots out and snatches the hilt in midair.

"Excellent. . . . And now, the Belt, seeing as you are so rigidly stubborn."

Silence prevails as the mythical Belt of Deltora, in its own turn, is called to the Shadow Lord. Its gems are dull and the fine metal of the medallions and chain refuse to shine in the red light.

With his sorcery, the Shadow Lord levitates the Belt in the air and stretches it taught. He glares at it, knowing full well how powerful it is and how many times he could have been brought to a downfall thanks to it.

"Now, my people—witness how I am greater than any little so-called 'defense' your minimal magic can conjure."

The crowd holds its breath, watching with dread and frozen fear—

As the blade of their own heir slashes through Deltora's last defense.

* * *

**Okay, so I lied. I will _not_ be waiting for votes to determine the uploading "date" of this fanfiction after all. . . . I'm sorry, it was just too hard to resist! O3o  
**

**To all others waiting for me to update my three other stories: I'm sorry! You'll have to wait—bear with me! ^_^0 But I _did_ update The First Four, so!  
**

**Now, down to business: THIS IS AN SYOT—and also my _FIRST_ one (so if I do anything wrong, tell me please)! Please either PM or review (any would be great!) your tribute, Deltoran or Panemian. The next chapter will be up soon ("soon" meaning between a week and a month), whether I get tributes or not, since chapter two will be Panem's reaction to the announcement about this little twist in their Games. ;D**

**-NOTE: Submitted tributes are on a first come, first serve basis. So basically, if I find that two female tributes are submitted for, say, the Amethyst tribe, I will see which one was submitted first and have that one written into the Games. _Submitting a tribute means you have full understanding of this rule. _Okay? ;)**

**Form for the SYOT:**

**Name:**

**-Edit: Deltorans have no middle/last names; Deltorans do not name their children after gemstones or objects or plants (well, okay, Jasmine was an exception, but she's one of the main characters!) without a reason (i.e. Opal the Dreamer); and they usually have names that sound different from ours but still seem familiar. **

**Gender:**

**Age:**

**Gem tribe or District (using this I'll be able to tell if they're Deltoran or Panemian*):**

**-*If Panemian, their reaction to the addition of Deltorans to the year's Games:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Family:**

**Reaped or volunteered?:**

**Reaction or reason:**

**Three strengths:**

**Three weaknesses:**

**Weapon of choice:**

**Least wanted weapon:**

_**How will they react to . .**_** .**

**Cold:**

**Heat:**

**Hunger:**

**Thirst:**

**Ambush/attack:**

**Having to kill someone:**

_**THE FOLLOWING ARE NOT ESSENTIAL BUT WOULD HELP A LOT!**_

**Token:**

**Reaping outfit:**

**-Edit: If the tribute is Deltoran, do me a favor and don't include a reaping outfit. Deltorans don't understand the concept of dressing up for an occasion like the reapings, so they'll all appear in their normal clothes. XD**

**Interview outfit:**

**Interview angle:**

**Games strategy (also include if they'll try to get something from the Cornucopia or run and also if they'll be alone or with allies):**

**Training score:**

_**Rate your tribute on the following skills (1-10 or words like "fair" or "poor"; anything that will describe their skill):**_

**Agility:**

**Strength:**

**Running:**

**Climbing:**

**Swimming:**

**Sight:**

**Hearing:**

**Plant/hunting knowledge:**

**Hand-to-hand combat:**

**Hiding themselves (like camouflage or finding concealing shelter):**

**ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE FOR ME TO KNOW ABOUT THEM:**

**Review _pleeeeeaaaase_, both Deltorans/DQ fans and THG fans! 8D Reviews make my day, you know that!**


	2. A (Very) Special Twist

**~Chapter Two: A (Very) Special Twist~**

* * *

**_Panem_**

POV, Azalea

_"What insane kind of person—?"_

"I don't even know if that thing was even a _person_, Azalea. It just didn't feel right."

"Fine then. What insane _thing_ would volunteer to add more—what did they call it—_twists_ to the Games? It's got enough, especially with me as Head Gamemaker!"

Azalea Shire—more commonly known as Trivia—did not agree with the concept of the Hunger Games. She never had. But that doesn't mean that she could just sit there and hold back her talents with coming up with arenas.

"Azalea, listen to me. That so-called Shadow Lord is more of a danger than the Games are! I think we need to let them know that."

The Head Gamemaker sighs impatiently. "I know, Rowan. And we tried, didn't we? It's too dangerous right now. . . ."

"We'll have to try again soon. The danger of this can't pass them and the rest of Panem unknown."

Azalea shakes her head, her bronze hair fanning out around her. "No one knows that more clearly than I do. You should have seen the greedy look on his face when he came to discuss arenas with me . . ." She shudders at the memory.

"He claimed he ruled this magical island far away and that there'd been uprising there recently. He wanted us to let _fourteen_ extra tributes from the island participate in the Games this year and he told me so many things he wanted me to do to some of them . . . it was horrible."

Rowan's eyes narrow. "Targeting certain tributes, huh?"

Azalea nods wordlessly.

Rowan sighs. "You refused, right?"

"Of course I did. I'd choose the Capitol's intentions over _his_ any day."

"True . . ." Rowan looks around quickly. "It's almost time. You'd better go."

* * *

"His offer is . . . interesting," offers Azalea. President Snow nods. "And?"

"I think we should accept, but on our own terms." Azalea pauses.

"Go on."

"Perhaps we should let this Shadow Lord add in his fourteen tributes, but that we will continue the Games as we would any other year. . . . But without the parade. Instead we could replace it with an exchange program, of sorts."

Snow raises an eyebrow. "Very intriguing, Miss Trivia. Your first year as Head Gamemaker will be an exceptionally memorable one, I believe."

Azalea smiles slightly with the praise. "Thank you, sir. It is my utmost pleasure and this is a dream come true for me."

"I would expect no less. Trivia, Head Gamemaker of the forty-ninth annual Hunger Games!"

Azalea laughs, bowing slightly to the President. "I thank you again!" Then she turns serious as a voice—transmitted by the Capitol technology—speaks into her ear. "Sir, the staff at headquarters say they're ready to begin."

"Excellent." Snow says something too quiet for Azalea to hear into his own headpiece and then says, "Confirmed."

Azalea nods and assumes her place.

"Begin the countdown!"

* * *

_**District 13**  
_

POV, Coin

In the underground District, televisions all around flicker on by themselves in the middle of lunch. Coin looks surprised and finally acknowledges the district's technology expert gratefully with a nod—being connected to the TV airings of Panem is finally becoming useful.

Everyone turns towards the screen in the huge room as it starts to project the Panem seal and play the anthem.

"A mandatory airing," mutters one of the people of 13. "That doesn't happen often."

"Shh," replies their neighbor.

It is completely silent by the time the seal and anthem fade. On the screen appear President Snow and Trivia—who all of District 13 know is Head Gamemaker.

"People of Panem!" booms Snow's voice. Coin snorts quietly to herself: even through the television, Snow sounded very I'm-so-much-better-than-all-of-you.

"We are now approaching our forty-ninth Hunger Games," says Trivia brightly, "as all of you know. What most of you do _not_ know, however, is that about two weeks ago a foreign fleet of warships landed on the coast of Panem."

Coin rolls her eyes. _But we _do_ know, Trivia. At least, some of us know.  
_

"A stranger was with them, who called himself the Shadow Lord." Now it is President Snow taking up the speech, so it must be important. "He claimed to have great powers of sorcery and control over a group of people . . . but that is besides the point.

"The Shadow Lord said he came from an islandic country called Deltora, far from Panem. He told us that he rules the Deltorans there and that he would gladly contribute fourteen Deltoran tributes for our forty-ninth Games."

It is now so quiet a pin's drop would have been audible.

_So that means . . ._ Coin quickly does the math. _That means _thirty-eight_ tributes! This is even worse than that harebrained Quarter Quell!_

"The arena's location will be either Panem or Deltora: we have agreed to draw for that," says Trivia. "But the parade will be replaced by a brief tour, an exchange for both countries. Fourteen Deltorans will come to Panem, and twenty-four citizens of Panem will be delivered to Deltora."

Trivia flashes a brilliant smile from the screen. "This is truly a _magical_ year to be reaped, to-be tributes! And so, without further ado— Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

The televisions all click off as one.

"Well, that was disturbing," murmurs Coin, returning to her meal. "But it won't be _us_ dealing with Deltora and that so-called 'Shadow Lord,' now will it?"

"The_ poor_ other twelve districts," says another, not exactly sympathetically.

_I think I'll actually watch it this year,_ muses Coin. _It's bound to get interesting._

* * *

**_Deltora_**

POV, Jasmine

"I cannot _believe_ this!"

Both Sharn and Lief give Jasmine a sideways look. "I could not believe this from the very beginning," mutters Lief, gesturing to the room.

All of them had been suspicious when, instead of throwing them into some dark, damp cell, the Shadow Lord chose to lock them into one of the many palace rooms. It is actually one with a very nice view: it oversees much of the golden castle, Del, the Forests, and the glittering sea.

But as they soon realized, it is as much of a prison as the alternative. There is nothing in the room that can help them escape; the view only makes them all very aware as to the condition Del is in and, in Jasmine's case, pine for the wilds. The sea only shows the shadowy, hulking warships of the Shadow Lord and no other, for even the sea animals had deserted the forlorn coastline.

"Yes, but what about these Games?" asks Sharn quietly.

That makes the entire group go silent. It is the question they have all quietly been asking, dreading, pondering. . . . But mostly wondering if it is possible to escape the nightmare.

"What about them?" asks Jasmine boldly. "We fight. We survive. We _win_! It is as simple as that."

"It is _not_, no matter how simple it may seem," retorts Lief. "Survival against thirty-six others just as desperate for a chance at living is not _simple_!"

Jasmine raises an eyebrow. "Thirty-six? I thought it would only be twenty-four. After all, we are Deltora's last hope. No Deltoran can oppose us."

Sharn shakes her head. "None of you know that for sure. There will be Shadow servants among the names for drawing, knowing the way the Shadow Lord's plans are. And all Deltorans are born with their own weapons, even more so for any loyal to the Shadow Lord."

"Traitors to the land, in other words," Jasmine says with a snort. "The cowards!"

"Try to understand, Jasmine. Times are hard—very hard. To be offered a chance to be spared would, for some, be irresistible."

"But you would think, after—"

Jasmine falls silent as cold creeps into the room, along with dark, swirling shadows. By now, all three of them know it is the trademark of the Shadow Lord to enter with such a presence.

"After what, _wild girl_?"

Jasmine growls. "I thought you would have learned my name by now . . . _Shadow Lord_. Truly you are dimwitted and rather slow."

Surprisingly, the Shadow Lord lets her remark pass by, which immediately draws her attention. If he is so willing to let the rude comment go unchallenged, then he must be extremely satisfied with the idea of throwing Lief and Jasmine into the Games.

. . . Which only makes her all the more wary.

"Well, _Jasmine_, then you would take care to so easily outsmart me. But I am afraid you cannot do that in the Hunger Games, now can you?" His voice is gleeful now. "No, you will be far too busy defending yourself from others—your own brethren! And nature itself will be against you now, while the Gamemakers and I control the arena!"

"No one would be as foolish as to give you _any _control over the arena," snorts Jasmine.

The room's temperature drops even lower, so cold that frost starts to form on the windows and the water on the table turns to ice. But it is Jasmine who is the target of the sorcery; Lief and Sharn see her go stiff suddenly until the only thing that she can move are her eyes, which dart around in fury and shock and suppressed fear.

"If you think that," hisses the Shadow Lord, low and menacing, "You are very, _very_ wrong." He laughs. "You three will accompany me to the reapings of each tribe. We leave for Jaliad tomorrow."

* * *

**Okay. Firstly: IN DESPERATE NEED OF TRIBUTES. O3o  
**

**So far, I only have two: the female tribute for the Jalis/Diamond tribe and the female tribute for the Lapis Lazuli tribe. . . . And my sister plans on submitting someone. So, ah . . . thirty-four (or thirty-three, if my sister submits one) spots are open. XD **

**In other words: Chapter three won't be up until someone submits the other tribute for the Jalis/Diamond tribe!**

**Five reviews already? :D Awesome! (Lime Green Squirrel's doesn't count. Seriously, M? Just ":3"? And yes, I'm still firm that if you submit a tribute named Google, I will change his/her name.) **

**Oh and Annie if you're reading this: Hai. See, I'm much more successful than you on FF! If this is Renny (dunno, I just have a feeling that if Annie's on here then you might see some of my stuff), hai too. Make an account sometime!**

**Thanks to Library2.0, Graymist the Great (didn't know you decided to read this XD), Guest, iiBlackRose, and Reading nerd for reviewing! Special thanks to the Guest and Reading nerd for submitting my two tributes! **

**Anyway, please review! :D Remember, tribute form is on previous chapter and I'll update once I get the male tribute for Jalis/Diamond!**

**PS: If you want to submit more than one tribute, PLEASE DO! Heck, I wouldn't care if you submitted five (since I technically need thirty-six, now thirty-four). Remember, both Panemian and Deltoran, as I keep getting Deltoran tributes! (Not that I have anything against Deltoran tributes, but it seems odd that no one's submitting anyone belonging to a district as there's twelve of them and only seven of gem tribes.)**


	3. Jaliad

**~Chapter Three: Jaliad~**

* * *

_**Deltora**_

POV, Lief

_Now_ Lief knows how so many Deltorans had been taken by the Shadow Lord to the Shadowlands.

They had not been driven out of their land by troops of Grey Guards or even Shadow monsters, as everyone had thought. No; the Shadow Lord was far too subtle for that. A whirling cloud of darkest grey occasionally punctured with red lightning had surrounded Lief, Jasmine, Sharn, and the Shadow Lord, and time had seemed to freeze.

When the cloud had lifted, they stood in Jaliad.

_It is quite a feat of sorcery,_ Lief admits to himself.

Now they are upon the hard ground of the Jalis arena. Formerly, while Jaliad was the town it used to be, the area was used for Jalis knights' training exercise and putting on displays of mock battles, but now it served as the perfect stage. The Jalis are gathered around them in the benches or standing nearby, their expressions masked. The Jalis are, after all, the strongest of the Deltoran tribes, and they are not about to let that reputation slip.

Surrounding the Jalis are Grey Guards with smaller versions of Vraals and other Shadow beasts. The Guards can barely hold the things in place as they strain towards prey. Once again, Ak-Baba rule the sky*****, swooping or hovering to survey the scene.

They watch in silence as the Shadow Lord ascends the platform and raises his hands, even though no one is speaking.

"The Diamond tribe was the first of the seven to give their talisman to Adin for the Belt of Deltora," begins the Shadow Lord. A quiet ripple of brief confusion goes through the crowd. No one knows where the Shadow Lord is going with this.

". . . Thus it seems to me that it is fitting that the first tribe to be reaped, then, is the Jalis tribe." The Shadow Lord smiles slightly. "And so . . . Being the first tribe participating in the Games, I would like to make a few things clear, to you and the rest of Deltora." He waves a hand, and a large disc of gray mist tinged with red appears next to him. The Shadow Lord notices the crowd's increased discomfort at the sorcery and adds calmly, "This will help me achieve full delivery of my following message:

"The tributes, of course, will be chosen at random, ages twelve through eighteen. Hopefully, most of you remembered that. If you are wondering just how random, rest assured that I have my own ways—sorcery, of course. After all, I know none of you present and alive have betrayed me, and thus all of your country are equal.

"Once all fourteen tributes of Deltora are chosen, I will proceed to Panem and have the honor of choosing their twenty-four as well. This the Gamemakers and I have recently agreed to. Then Deltoran tributes will be taken to Panem for brief training . . . before letting the Games unfold!" The Shadow Lord spreads his hands. "The location of the arena has not yet been decided, but I am sure the Gamemakers and I will come to a conclusion soon. . . . And now, the tributes of the Jalis tribe!"

Lief does not know what to expect, and neither does anyone else. But what they least expect is the Shadow Lord summoning the diamond and holding it for all to see.

"The diamond was born of the land, and so knows all those _of_ its own area of land, meaning the Jalis. Not by name, no, but by soul and spirit." The Shadow Lord seems delighted with his way of choosing. "And so the diamond itself will select those brave souls to compete in the Games for Deltora's glory!"

Lief grits his teeth. "_Deltora's glory"? What glory is there in this wasteland he has made our country?_

The Shadow Lord lowers the diamond and lays his hand onto its clear surface. Lief exchanges an anxious glance with Jasmine and Sharn before they both shake their heads. They, too, are clueless about this ability of the gems.

The crowd cannot hold back a gasp as a glittering, crystal-like form of a girl appears. It seems almost like a statue of diamond, except it is misty and does not appear solid at all.

"Your talisman has called," says the Shadow Lord. "Step forward and represent your tribe and your land!"

At first, no one moves. Then slowly, one part of the crowd turns to face a girl that is the exact image of the diamond's apparition—as bedraggled as any other Jalis, a neutral expression, and most of all the narrow eyes. Lief notices that she does not seem stunned or shocked, but closed-off and guarded. She glares at the Jalis surrounding her, then walks forward until she faces the Shadow Lord.

_Very admirable,_ realizes Lief. _Few can do such a thing._

"My name is Marry," she says before the Shadow Lord can ask for her name. "If the diamond calls me, then I will answer."

* * *

POV, Marry

Once again the Shadow Lord places his hand upon the diamond.

_Their_ diamond. . . .

The Jalis had all been so certain of their deaths in the Shadowlands. They knew it was inevitable, and that it was to befall them soon by the workings of the Shadow Lord.

But none of them had been prepared for a death _this_ way.

Marry tries to still her shaking hands, without much success. She knows she is fearful; to deny that is foolish, to pretend that she can win is also foolish. She knows that she must not give away her fear or her horror, though—she knows everyone is watching her.

And though she may seem calm, there is a beast within her mind trying to claw its way out, screaming and shrieking with her wild terror.

These so-called _Games_ are much more nightmarish than any of them could have imagined. It is death by those you thought you trusted, death by the hands of those you thought were above such a thing.

Survival and loyalty. . . .

Would she kill the two—Lief and Jasmine—willingly? Marry is, after all, a Deltoran, and Lief is the rightful heir and Jasmine his ally and just as important in her own way. But if they tried to kill _her_, would she defend herself so drastically that she slew them?

_I would not, _she thinks grimly. _I would rather die. If they wish to kill me, well, my life is nothing compared to theirs. They are our last hope. . . . And in this way, I can save Deltora._

She only lifts her eyes when the next doomed Jalis is called. And then she realizes:

_The diamond is betraying us._

Marry had always been considered odd among the Jalis. She was—and still is—an excellent fighter, but she never willingly fought like the others. Not for sport, not for practice. Only for her life, her pride and honor, and those she cared about. The thought that their own talisman is betraying the Jalis leaves her hollow with fury and shock.

"Your talisman has called! Step forward and represent your tribe and your land!"

_That is not what_ I _think. _I _think you are manipulating the diamond to call us!_ Even so, Marry knows that thoughts cannot affect the diamond. Yes, it is supposed to bring misfortune twofold to the Shadow Lord as he gained it by treachery _and_ for evil purpose, but his sorcery, now more powerful than ever, could overpower a single gem alone.

Marry turns her eyes to the crowd. She notices a pattern; just like they had for her, the Jalis had hidden the selected tribute at first. But eventually, their loyalty falters and they give the chosen away by turning and giving them uneasy glances.

She recognizes the male tribute. _Greel,_ she thinks. _Greel, the one named for one of the most honored Jalis in our history, one of our best knights, has been chosen._

But Marry had fought Greel many times before and knows his weaknesses.

She closes her eyes grimly. _They will be his downfall._

* * *

POV, Greel  


If he is honest—which he is not—Greel is rather eager at the opportunity. Not the opportunity to slay, but the opportunity to finally prove the Jalis, the mightiest of the seven tribes.

They had been shut away and kept as prisoners and slaves in the Shadowlands, and now he thought few know of their strength and skill in battle. The Jalis were a lost cause in the eyes of Deltorans, and he would not have it that way.

"Your name, brave Jalis?" asks the Shadow Lord, his voice eager.

"Greel." And he says nothing more, but stands facing the Shadow Lord. _If Marry can do it, so can I._

"And the Diamond tribe has paid their tribute! Remember to bring glory to your land and your tribe in the arena, courageous Marry and Greel!"

The crowd starts to cheer just as they had done in Del when Lief and Jasmine had been chosen: unwilling and anxious, and, above all, fearful.

Greel thinks it is a disgrace of the Jalis to be fearful, but he knows it is completely reasonable. The Games were much worse than their worst fears.

And as the Ak-Baba swoop and screech in the sky, Greel knows that he _has_ to survive.

No matter what.

. . . And that meant that yes, if it came to it, he would kill the last heir of Deltora.

* * *

"So, Marry, you were chosen as well."

The female tribute of the Jalis tribe makes no other indication that she heard him as she answers, "Yes. I have fought you before . . . Greel."

Greel scowls. He still could not believe that Marry had beaten him in a fight when he had insulted her. "I know."

"How are you two faring, then?"

The quiet question comes from the old queen Sharn. Greel knows it is only natural of her to worry, but for some reason it strikes a taut nerve.

"As well as anyone who is about to enter the Games can be," he replies sharply. Instead of looking hurt, Sharn only frowns and turns to Lief and Jasmine. A look passes between them, but then it vanishes before Greel can fully see it.

"We go to Dread Mountain next, I believe," says Lief. "Why do you think that?" asks Marry, speaking for the first time.

"The Shadow Lord mentioned that the Jalis tribe was the first to give up their talisman for the Belt's completion," replies Lief. "If he wishes to go in the order, then the Emerald tribe is next—meaning Dread Mountain."

Marry nods, then says, "What about Shadowgate?"

"Shadowgate is not the place the Shadow Lord would desire," answers Sharn. "The people there are too . . . resilient. And rather resistant as well to the power of the Shadow Lord, even on the border of the Barrier Mountains. To hold the reaping there would be defiant, yes, but Dread Mountain is more well-known and to conquer the treasury of the Gnomes would be a display of his power."

At the stunned pause, she smiles. "I may be older, but my mind is still very intact. And besides, Shadowgate is too small."

"So what will happen to us now?" asks Greel, motioning at himself and Marry. "I do not know," sighs Sharn. "Most likely, however, the Shadow Lord will send you to the palace in Del for . . . safekeeping."

_"Safekeeping,"_ thinks Greel drily. _More like "imprisonment."_

He glances around, deciding to make the most of this moment. After all, few people could say they had met the previous queen, the heir, and the famed "wild girl with a blackbird."

Greel decides that the tales of them that were spread through Deltora are greatly exaggerated.

Then the cold sweeps in. Greel feels himself freeze, held firmly by an icy hold. He looks at the others and notices that they, too, are experiencing something similar.

_What is this?_ he tries to ask with his eyes.

Apparently Lief gets the message, because he shakes his head slightly. _Do not fight,_ his expression says.

"Greetings to the queen, the heir, _and_, of course, our two _brave_ tributes," purrs the voice of the Shadow Lord. Greel cannot see him, but he senses the sorcerer is somewhere among them in the room. "Marry, Greel, you will be kept safe in the palace of Del. Queen, heir, and girl, you will come with me. We can manage two reapings in a day, now can't we? . . . To Dread Mountain it is, then, and enjoy your stay in Del, tributes!"

The cold leaves but in its place comes a whirlwind of gray storm clouds and red lightning.

* * *

**I feel so bad for leaving you guys like that! X3  
**

**Well anyway, the third chapter is finally done! (Question: Did I rush at all? I was hurrying to get this done for you guys . . .) One chapter closer to finishing! (Just a warning: I'm pretty sure this will be a _loooong_ fanfiction.)**

***Reference to my DQ one-shot, _Rulers of the Sky_! 'Preciate it if any of you guys would read it! :D Oh, and, also: My new DQ story _When Truth and Lies Are One_ and a humor/parody story, _Deltora Quest Reads Deltora Quest_, are now also up so it'd be great if anyone decided to check those out!**

**For clarification: There will not be a parade (gosh, if there was, I would have writer's block for a month), but there will be something else: a kind of exchange program where the Deltorans get a brief tour of Panem and the Panemians get a brief tour of Deltora. Yes, there will be sponsors but all will be Panemian. No mentors and no escorts this year. Umm . . . and I think that's it. If you have any other questions regarding this extra twist in the Games, feel free to ask me in your review! ;D**

**All righty, as for tributes, this is the list so far! (And thanks to Guest, who submitted Marry for this chapter! . . . Yes, that means I was the one who made up Greel. What? No one was submitting . . .)**

**Ruby/Ralad tribe: None**

**Opal/Plains tribe: None**

**Lapis Lazuli/Mere tribe: Female tribute (Faith, submitted by Reading nerd); no male tribute**

**Emerald/Dread Gnomes/Shadowgate: Female tribute (Saiah {yes M I changed her name}, submitted by Lime Green Squirrel); no male tribute**

**Amethyst/Torans: Female tribute (Reila, submitted by iiBlackRose); no male tribute **

**District 1: None**

**District 2: Complete (Malevolence "Mal" Gander submitted by Morgandi and Blain Glory submitted by Library2.0)**

**And the rest of the Districts are empty. XD**

**Review! Please! :D And if you'd like to submit a tribute, please remember that the form is in the A/N of the first chappie!  
**


End file.
